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Array
(
[sid] => 7718
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Autumn
[time] => 2002-11-30 21:00:00
[hometext] => Inspired by a near death experience
[bodytext] => ... when truth comes to find you playing games and loving toys
you'll watch through open eyes and outstretched soul as time weeps orange blossom memories and dreams of futures never known to yourself dance unchained before you. You'll know and feel her beauty and sorrow alike as they take forever and an instant to weave and cascade through doors never opened ... least not by you. And yet you feel their notions and wonders, hold them close knowing this is the oneness and truth you've looked for in the corners, memory hallways, colours, scents and remembrances of all those things that never should have been said. In this moment time looses whatever she was thought to be and a butterfly opens her wings for a virgin instant never known again. It will be looked back upon no more as this and other moments of still and grainy Black & White or moving Technacolor and Kodachrome are worn on your sleeve, expression and nametag. For that instant unending you'll know ... abandoned desires and lazy dreams of rainy afternoons softly softly patter upon memory's kitchen windowpane ... gray bluesy visions against smoke painted backdrops sway rhythmically while inspiration visits each in turn ... green and gold visions of laughter, smiles, friends and life on an airbrushed backdrop seemingly lonely without you ... stark flat sprawls and occasional confrontations close enough to sterility that tasteless colours are seen with a smile ... laid back on cool hardwood floor knowing the breeze of late summers afternoon calling youth's blossom from all she touches while outside windows of solitary kingdom leaves and skies change color as a fickle lover might change her mind ... quick with a certainty death should envy ... to slowly softly slide into the slipstream of easy melody and subdued/blended shades of shadowed retrospective reflection ... escape or a leisurely stroll out for smokes? sometimes feels like a final vision of youth's dream ... the time will come when questions you ask of the wind will be answered in one moment frozen at time's end ... the love you've missed, the anger, pain and tears will be known by all with the forgiveness warmth and love of home ... and through tomorrows we'll grow to be the ONE who make this "LIFE" and life goes on ... thoughts of tomorrows open and waiting for one to walk through first dawns dewed meadow and soft clovered fields ... worries and importance are lost in narcotic exhalation of early evening's most subtle caress ... dark eyes and tan skirt she sits waiting inside the barren room for a lover no one can see. The door bursts open and ... Lies Lies Lies Lies Lies Lies Lies Lies Lies and all for the sake of keeping the machine running and operating smoothly while minimizing and marginalizing those who NEVER get the opportunity to taste her finest cuisines ... each and every day in the unlikely pursuit of insight that will allow you to survive another month or two in the "trickle down" world of McJobs, paper hats and feminists in charge of the illegitimate reasons box ... over three years since his hand held your own and although the feeling is not always there tonight you wish for him the love, joy and bloom you once felt with each other ... the joyful noises become dulled and deadened by the monotone din of defeat's sorry anthem ... this one will be forever, this one will be, this time we'll be together, this time we'll be as one, this end may even be for better, this end may even be complete ... the final vision of youth's dream ... a new friend offers his peace you remember the times you once spoke of the passions and raptures of love and turn away ... slowing swirling softly sighing drowsy drifting freely flutter pause settle consent and wonder ... as God's hand writes this message in this bottle and casts you out to carry this thought ... the festival's kites soar above and colours of life fill the sky while back here a captive of unatural stubborness sits watching ... still watching the show ... against the waves and out of phase on this plain your journey begins anew to another place and distant shore to deliver this message you cannot understand. You are only a bottle. Kent Mackey (c) 1998 [comments] => 3 [counter] => 281 [topic] => 19 [informant] => KM [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => InspirationalPoems )
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